


Winter Wonderland

by emma23416



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, Cas is a literature nerd, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, here comes the porn, merry christmas porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma23416/pseuds/emma23416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets stuck in a blizzard and is forced to stay at a stranger's house for three days. They get closer than expected, and Dean finds comfort in Cas's presence just as he had found in his home that first day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

Dean Winchester has worked with cars his whole life. He knows how cars work, and how to fix them. He can usually identify a car's problem just by the sound it makes, but tonight he knows exactly what the problem is without hearing a thing. Looking out the windshield tells him enough: it can't handle this much snow and cold. The storm had come in quickly, and what was half an inch took only a few minutes to become two inches, then three. 

He pulls over to the side of the road, knowing that there would be no buildings or houses nearby even if he could see more than a few feet away. Of course the blizzard has hit him in bumfuck nowhere and strands him here alone in his car. Suddenly Dean is presented with a predicament when all he wanted to do in the first place was drive away and relax. Typical. But he couldn't have done anything to prevent it; trying to drive away from the storm would do him no good. 

He sighs in frustration and pulls out his cell phone from his pocket. The bars at the top blink away, indicating no signal. Dean flips it shut, tosses it onto the passenger's seat and closes his eyes, leaning back to breathe. He'll have to calm down to deal with this situation. At the worst, he'll have to get comfortable in the Impala until the storm passes, which could be a few hours or... longer than that. Dean doesn't want to think about that. He's slept in the Impala before, and it's comfortable enough if it becomes necessary. 

When he looks outside, he is surprised by how dark the air has turned. It's a thick cloud of dark gray quickly turning black as night falls. This is a type of storm Dean isn't so used to, and his fear is that it will trap him in the car, where he could freeze without a chance of rescue. No one knows where he is, not that anyone would care anyway. Maybe he could learn a lesson from this, that he should try to break his habit of driving with no destination or purpose other than to get away. He wants to get away from all the people who'll talk about their plans of celebration with family and loved ones. But he doesn't want to reflect on his jealousy at a time of emergency. A hopeless feeling washes over him and down his skin like running water. Alone. He reaches for his phone again, hoping against logic that it will receive a signal, but at that moment he looks up at the windshield, noticing a very faint light amid all the darkness. The snow swirls like a cyclone in the dark evening, making the glow hard to see. But Dean noticed it, and he knows it's there. It seems to hide in plain sight and he wonders how he hadn't seen it before. A glow can only mean one thing, Dean thinks. It means civilization, a fire or a light. Perhaps he's not in the exact middle of nowhere? Not that Dean knows where he is at the moment anyways. That, or Hell has come to Earth, which wouldn't really surprise him either. Canada's weather continues to shock and amaze Dean. How could anyone stand to live here? 

Upon seeing the strange light Dean has begun to work out a plan. He doesn't want to be buried alive in his car, which he admits is a bit dramatic, but possible. He would have to gear up and bring a flashlight, but he's willing to risk wandering out into the snow to avoid a cold, lonesome death stuck inside his car. This thought motivates him to search through the backseat which holds his snow gear, and he finds himself awkwardly pulling layers over his clothing while confined behind the steering wheel. He gets nervous when he realizes he doesn't have a ski mask. Anything could happen-- Dean could get lost, the light he sees could just be his own insanity, or it could be farther than it looks--and Dean really doesn't want his face to freeze off. Setting a stern expression, he decides a hat will have to be enough. He roughly pulls it on and takes a deep breath, then he flicks on his flashlight. Now that he's made up his mind he might as well go before it gets worse. 

The car door swings open, and Dean boldly walks out into the chill of the air. He stands for a moment, confused by the stillness and calm. He shuts the door. Maybe it's not as bad as it looked, Dean thinks. Maybe it's just snow but no wind. He looks for the glow in the distance and is relieved to see it again. One foot after another, he trudges a path through the blanket of snow. 

A gust of wind and ice then rushes into Dean's side like a freezing slap in the face, pushing him off balance and dispelling any thoughts that the storm might be gentle to him. As he stands upright again and braces himself for the wind, a thought flashes across Dean's mind. For a brief moment Dean fears for his dignity. What if he ends up at the house of a grumpy old man who doesn't invite him in, forcing him to a wintry death? What if he gets lost and stumbles around until he freezes in the Canadian woods? 

"Ridiculous," he mumbles into the hollow darkness surrounding him. With each step he takes he builds his confidence that the light will lead him somewhere safe. He allows himself to fantasize that the glow is a nice homey restaurant outside of town. Maybe it serves free hot pie to cold wandering vagabonds. Or maybe it's someone's house. Perhaps it's a sweet attractive woman who will let him sit close to her to warm up, and then she'll ask if he wants to stay the night when the blizzard continues. What if someone lit a candle in the windowsill, hoping for her loved one to return safely? Dean's hopes are far-fetched, but he needs to imagine something pleasant to fight the chill biting at his bones. 

The faint light gradually grows bigger, motivating Dean to stomp forward although he can't feel his nose, ears or fingers by this point. He feels strange, like his body is moving itself while Dean's mind floats off somewhere else, trying to keep him moving forward. A dark shape slowly forms around the light as Dean approaches. He allows himself to get excited when he sees the building ahead, and walking becomes easier when he can see his destination. 

After a few more minutes Dean steps onto a wooden porch belonging to a lovely home in the middle of Canada. The idea of living here appalls Dean, but it seems much more beautiful knowing that it could be his safe haven. Without hesitation, he pounds on the door five times. It isn't his intention to be rude but he's cold and tired. He doesn't want to miss a chance because of the screaming wind overpowering him. 

He breathes in anticipation for a few moments and watches the puffs of air blow away. Then the wooden door swings open. A humble man stands inside holding the door, looking warm with a slight pink flush to his cheeks. He looks friendly and Dean finds himself lost for words, like he can't remember why he came here. 

The man looks slightly skeptical for a moment, probably because a big snow-covered marshmallow just appeared at his doorstep. "Hi. Are you--" 

The deep voice shakes Dean out of his reverie. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I just got caught..." He blinks a few times, trying to overcome the numbness but failing. 

The man nods as he understands. "Come in! You need to get out of there." He urges, gesturing inside at the fireplace. 

Dean stands, unresponsive. 

"Please, I insist." His tone takes on a sense of urgency, as if he knows how close Dean is to becoming a Popsicle. 

Mesmerized by the warmth of the household, Dean takes a few steps in. 

The other man immediately shuts the door behind Dean, then he pulls off Dean's icy hat. "Let me help you," he says. "These need to come off." He begins to unbutton Dean's first coat. It slowly peels off and slides to the floor. He doesn't hesitate to unzip the thick overalls and slide off the straps so they pool at Dean's feet. Ice chips off the clothing as it drops to the floor around him. 

Dean looks at the man, shorter than himself, and his messy hair reminds Dean of a small animal. He crouches down on the floor to unlace Dean's boots and help slip them off. When he stands again, a burst of warmth soothes Dean when his hand touches Dean's bare arm. 

"The storm just came in all at once. You're lucky to have stopped here; there's nothing around for miles."

Dean hears him speaking but the words take time to register. Yeah, thank God he found his way here-- Oh. Reality hits him. Oh God, he's at a stranger's house. He's sure he's made a complete fool of himself by standing here dumbfounded. Dean's embarrassment encourages him to move, and he manages to control himself enough to tug off his gloves. 

The man looks pleased that Dean is capable of removing his own gloves. The bastard. He takes Dean's arm, again sending shocks of heat to Dean's skin, and leads him to the fireplace. The only thing directly in front of the fireplace is a rug, and Dean sits on it, soaking in the warmth. 

"I'm Castiel." The man introduces himself, and he looks like he's debating if he should help Dean strip any more. He decides instead to take a blanket from the couch and offer it to Dean. "What's your name?" he asks. 

Dean takes the blanket and drops it into his lap. "I-I'm Dean." He tries to stop his teeth from clattering as shivers rack his body. He thinks keeping his mouth shut will do the trick. 

"You need to change out of those clothes. I'll get you something." Castiel's voice leaves no room for argument, not that Dean would've argued anyway. He strides off into another room. 

Left alone, Dean surveys the house for the first time. He's stunned to realize that the only lights are candles. Candles, hanging everywhere. Seriously. Who even does that anymore? Everyone living in Canada is crazy, Dean decides. 

Just like its owner, the house's layout is open and welcoming. Dean can see the entire floor shaped like a giant rectangle. Across from the living room is a kitchen which is next to a dining area with a small table. The wall opposite the fireplace holds bookshelves stuffed full, with more books piled on top. On a spacious table covered in various items sits an unorganized pile of papers and pens, making it seem like someone has spent a lot of time there. Past the kitchen are only two doors, the only closed rooms Dean can see.

Castiel emerges from one of the rooms and brings a dry outfit over to Dean. "Here. Try these, hopefully they'll fit." 

"Thanks," Dean replies. He picks the clothes up, indicating that he doesn't need help for this part, and Castiel gets the message. 

"I'll just be over there." Castiel points back to where he came from, leaving Dean to change. 

With a shaky hand Dean holds up the items. A simple white shirt and striped pajamas. He puts them down and does well to peel off his soaked shirt, but the jeans aren't so easy. Dean refuses to stoop to the level of asking for help to change his pants and mentally curses the stubborn denim. It takes a minute but he finally pulls the jeans off, and thanks the Lord almighty that his underwear didn't soak through because that would've been a pain. His skin feels free, and the dry clothes go on much easier than the others came off. The fire warms Dean's back, and he hardly feels numb anymore as he wraps himself in the blanket he'd set aside. Yeah, being able to feel your own fingers is pretty awesome. 

"Thanks, man," Dean awkwardly calls, thinking that Castiel might be waiting for him to say something. 

Castiel walks out of the other room. "Do they fit?" He asks casually. 

"Yeah," Dean says. Castiel wears jeans and a white T-shirt that complement his frame beautifully, and Dean doesn't look nearly as nice in his opinion, but he feels comfortable. "Like I said, thanks so much for--"

"Don't mention it. You can stay here as long as you need." Castiel says graciously. 

Dean blushes, actually blushes, because he really doesn't deserve that. He'll try to get out of Castiel's hair as soon as possible but it just depends on the storm. He finds the window, gazing at the snow whipping back and forth, and it looks like he won't be on his way anytime soon. It's not as upsetting anymore though because this guy is actually really nice--He didn't even kick Dean out!--and being here is so much better than sitting in his car freezing. Dean pulls the blanket back up over his shoulders and turns to look into the fireplace. It blazes like it's been freshly stoked; red, orange, blue glowing, flickering, sending Dean into a daze as he watches. A few coherent thoughts float to the top of his mind, but they quickly melt away under the warm glow. 

He stares, soon wondering if he'll fall asleep there, when a hissing sound interrupts his reverie. Looking toward it Dean finds Castiel in the kitchen lifting a kettle and pouring something into a mug. Dean backs a few feet away from the fireplace, sitting on the floor against the sofa. He finds it amusing that he can see into the kitchen from the living room, so he watches as Castiel pulls something from a cupboard and walks over to a drawer to get two spoons. When Castiel walks out of the kitchen Dean pretends he wasn't looking, instead inspecting the fibers of the blanket covering him. Wow, that material is just fascinating. 

"Dean." 

"Yeah?" Dean looks up, and he's trying to remember the last time someone said his name in such a friendly tone. Castiel holds two mugs with steam rising over the brims. 

"I made hot chocolate. You should have some," Castiel states, offering a cup to Dean. 

"Aw, thanks, you didn't have to." But Dean takes it graciously, savoring the heat that emanates into his hands, up his arms, and as he takes a burning sip, down his spine. It scalds his tongue but he finds he doesn't care. 

Castiel sits on the couch and waits like a normal person for his drink to cool. "It's a shame you were caught up here. Were you traveling to family for the holiday?"

After taking a moment to uncomfortably shift on the carpet so he leans toward the fire, Dean replies with a sparse "No." 

Castiel doesn't notice Dean's awkwardness, or he ignores it. "Well, you could've ended up in any place with more to offer for you. I don't have much; I just live on my own."

And Dean would say something in return, but he's busy blocking off his emotions. In the silence his mind wanders, and he wonders where Castiel's TV is. But then of course he wouldn't have a TV, he doesn't even have freaking electric lights. What does he do if he doesn't have a TV? Realizing how little he knows about the stranger Dean simply asks, "Do you ever watch TV?"

The hesitant reply is hard to hear. Castiel's throat clears, then he repeats louder, "No, I mostly read for entertainment. Like I say, I'm not accustomed to having guests."

Dean thinks maybe that was supposed to be an apology, and he tries to make up for what he said. "That's cool. I like reading too," he lies. Then it's quiet again, and he takes a sip of hot chocolate. The fire crackles behind the glass. 

"Thanks again, so much." Dean startles himself when he speaks. "I just needed to warm up, you know. The wind is just crazy."

Castiel slides down off the couch to sit next to him on the floor. "I completely understand. If you need my body heat, of course, you can use it."

Dean is a bit breathless at the suggestion. Normally that kind of thing is just considered flirting, but Castiel looks completely serious about it. Such an innocent offer and I wouldn't dare turn it down, Dean thinks. It's strictly for warmth purposes which is _completely _valid. He stretches the blanket over both of them and leans against Castiel's shoulder, careful not to spill the contents of his mug.__

__It would be strangely intimate for another man to put an arm around Dean and draw him in close, but right now Dean feels okay with it. He's letting his guard down, and any terrible thing could happen, but Castiel's heat and aura of calm gives him no choice. The flickering colors of the hearth take control, and Dean stares, drinking slowly. When he finishes Castiel takes the mug from him and sets it aside. Without thinking Dean curls up against him, which shouldn't be so easy to do since he can't remember the last time he did it with anyone, and sighs. He stops thinking and lets go, grateful for a soul in which to take refuge._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody likes this story then I'll probably continue it. If no one likes it then I'll probably continue it anyway. Depends.


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit fam I wrote this at 4am so please be forgiving. thanks ✌

He wakes up confused. As the blur of unconsciousness forms into lines, Dean realizes that he is on the floor, covered in layers of blankets deep in the night. Events creep slowly back into his mind as a howling whistle blows outside the nearby window. He remembers the snow, and getting stuck, and the cold, and a man... Castiel? That's where he is now. Castiel's house. Dean rolls onto his side, and he's surprised to see a figure beside him. The lights have been put out, and it's the middle of the night, making it difficult to see except for the dim glow from the fireplace. It's Castiel, though, peaceful in rest. No blankets cover him, and Dean wonders if he didn't mean to fall asleep there. Dean's too tired to get up or try to wake him, so he wiggles himself and the pile of blankets (seriously, there must be at least six) over and plops a portion on top of Castiel. Dean makes sure he's got enough before closing his eyes again. He breathes the strange air deeply, tense for a few minutes before allowing himself to relax. 

 

The next time Dean wakes up he doesn't open his eyes at first. Instead he listens to the smooth even breaths coming from behind him, and he knows who sends the gentle breaths into his hair. Feeling warm and satiated, Dean doesn't question the arm around his torso or the heat pressed against the length of his back. He's not thinking right, he knows, but he can't stop himself from pulling that arm closer and snuggling back into the warmth. Thoughts fuzzy and lethargic, Dean dozes off again. 

Some amount of time later he feels movement. The arm that he's holding tightly wiggles a bit, but Dean doesn't want it to go. It escapes his sleepy grasp and leaves his chest cold, softly resting on his waist instead. Dean rolls over to investigate, and it's Castiel looking back at him. 

"Hello."

Dean squirms away quickly and sits up, rubbing at the back of his neck as a blush crawls up onto his face. "Hey, Cas..." 

"Merry Christmas Eve," Castiel replies unfazed, blankets draped crookedly over his shoulder and the jut of his hip. 

"Oh... shit. It's Christmas Eve?" Dean shakes his head grimly. 

"Yes," Castiel says, blinking a few times and stretching his arms above his head. "But didn't you say yesterday that you weren't going anywhere?"

"No, but..." Dean watches Castiel's legs shift under the blankets. "Do you have plans for Christmas? How are you going to get anywhere if it's still snowing?"

After a few seconds Dean glances up at Castiel's eyes which are fixed on him. Castiel rises up to sit on his feet, level with Dean. "You're stranded here on Christmas Eve, and you're concerned about _me _?" His hand wanders up to Dean's cheek where a quiet blush forms again--yeah, Dean thinks, he's definitely an inherent flirt--and caresses the skin in reverence.__

__"I just... I just crashed at your place and you didn't..." Dean shivers at the contact. "You--"_ _

__"How many times must I tell you?" Castiel's palm trails down Dean's neck, shoulder, and arm. "It's no problem."_ _

__Dean tells himself that he shouldn't enjoy this, it's only temporary and he'll be out of here later today, back on the road where he belongs. But he continues quietly breathing and leaning into the hand that now lingers on his shoulder._ _

__Castiel grins and inches closer until he stops, breathing the same air as Dean. He chuckles under his breath and stands, turns around and walks away as if he's made his point. "How do you like eggs and toast?" He calls over his shoulder._ _

__"Fucker," Dean groans._ _

__

__Breakfast is warm and fresh that morning, unlike anything Dean has tasted in a long while. Castiel added herbs to the eggs, and at his first bite Dean moans blissfully around his fork._ _

__"That's the shit right there." He gestures at the plate with the fork. He chews for a few moments, then says, "Sorry, I hope swearing doesn't offend you."_ _

__Castiel's amused smile is nothing short of adorable as he shakes his head. "Not in the least."_ _

__Dean doesn't know how to show his appreciation, and he doesn't want to be awkward. He tries to make small talk as they eat, which he's never been good at. The little he knows about Castiel is his friendliness and welcoming smile. Dean wonders if the guy is gay or if he just flirts with everyone. Maybe he's not even human since he doesn't have electricity._ _

__"So you... live kind of off the grid?"_ _

__Castiel nods. "You could say that. Yes. I'm not a big proponent of conventional life."_ _

__"Oh. Nice. What kind of stuff do you do out here?" Good, Dean. Perfectly normal thing to ask._ _

__"I write novels."_ _

__"Well that explains all the fucking paper everywhere." Dean almost spits out his food when realizes he said that aloud. "Shit. Fuck. Sorry." He takes a long draw from the glass of water in front of him._ _

__Castiel just laughs as if something about Dean's struggle is funny. "May I inquire about you as well?" He asks eventually. "Do you have family?"_ _

__"Oh, I do," Dean picks at what remains on his plate, "but we're not really in touch."_ _

__"I am sorry to hear that," Castiel says solemnly. "I am in a similar situation."_ _

__Dean looks up. "Maybe it's not such a bad thing we're stuck together."_ _

__Castiel's eyes twinkle. "Perhaps."_ _

__

__Life is boring and pointless without electricity. Castiel seems so vibrant but Dean wonders how he has any life without anything to do. Dean sits with Cas drinking warm milk in the living room for a few hours and stares at the fireplace. He asks about the woodstove, the firewood, and the candles. Castiel explains that the wood comes from a friend in a nearby town--he cuts the trees, and Castiel splits the logs._ _

__"Shit," Dean says. "Doesn't anyone up here have a wood splitter?"_ _

__"A luxury."_ _

__"You don't like luxuries," Dean observes._ _

__"Not much," Castiel replies. Then he describes the importance of collecting firewood over the summer and having an abundance of quilts and blankets. He says he uses kerosene lamps as well as candles._ _

__"It's like the eighteenth century, except you wear jeans." Dean comments._ _

__Castiel does not respond but the smirk on his lips is all Dean needs to see._ _

__Dean looks out the window every few minutes, hoping for the time to pass faster but also, somewhere inside, hoping for it to pass slower. He hasn't really been bored since he was young. The bookshelves are stocked full, so Dean assumes that Cas mostly reads in his spare time. He stands to check out the books. He feels along the spines, reads the titles, and picks one out to examine it. Charles Dickens. Yeah, the people in Canada must get pretty damn bored, Dean thinks as he returns the book. That's when he feels the heat behind him, slowly invading and warming his spine. It's Cas, sneaking up behind him and peeking over his shoulder._ _

__"You might enjoy some of those." Castiel's arm stretches in front of Dean, and he pulls out a red hardcover._ _

__Dean closes his eyes and tries to focus on his breathing, because Cas has pressed up against him, leaning against his back just like this morning as if it were a casual thing to do. A few deep breaths, and then Dean says, "I might be interested in what _you _write."___ _

____This time Castiel's breathy laugh tickles Dean's neck. "Yeah? You want to read something of mine?" Cas's arms float down around Dean's waist, hovering over his hips and then gently touching, drawing them in._ _ _ _

____Fucking charmer. "I'd love to," Dean admits, giving in to the warmth encapsulating him as he tilts his head back. Castiel holds him there, safe, secure, and then he murmurs, "Come," and leads him back to sit down. When did I turn into such a girl?, Dean thinks as he curls up on the sofa to lie his head on Cas's chest. Nothing could make him happier, though, as Cas settles there with him, legs wrapped together, and his hand begins to rake through Dean's hair. Since he's lost all manly dignity anyway Dean takes Castiel's other arm possessively to hold against his torso, soaking in the warmth. He hasn't felt tired since he woke up, but the conditions and all-encompassing warmth make Dean lethargic as he stares into the fire. Over and over through his hair the fingers twist, and Dean tries to fight his growing adoration._ _ _ _

____The best way to pass time, Dean finds, is with someone else._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____"Oh, dude..." Dean slurs. "Sorry I keep cuddling you."_ _ _ _

____"Dean." Once again a smile dances on Castiel's lips. "That's my fault." Cas pets Dean's hair, seemingly engrossed in the task, and Dean allows him to._ _ _ _

____"Another meal?" Cas asks._ _ _ _

____Dean nods and releases himself from the comfort of resting against Castiel. He stretches and then pads along behind Cas into the kitchen. He's slept for a while, so he's starving, and their next meal is supper. He helps prepare items which Cas mixes and heats over the stove in a stew, and he also eats some of the ingredients which earns him a look of insincere disapproval._ _ _ _

____This time Castiel finds two bottles of beer, and they drink together after supper. Dean knows that he'll have to leave as soon as the weather clears up, but he enjoys his time with Cas. They talk about Dean's life, how he works with cars and likes to drive when he can, which ended him up in Canada. He feels like fate brought him here, but that's idealistic thinking that he would never say out loud. By his second beer Dean feels more comfortable, and he knows he should control himself and get away from Cas, maybe read one of those books like they had talked about, but it's Christmas Eve and Dean is lonely. He's met someone kind and gracious who might actually accept him for what he is, the faggot outcasted from the family. Maybe he can be okay with that for once._ _ _ _

____Castiel doesn't ask why Dean doesn't talk to his family, and Dean doesn't ask either. They know that no matter what it is, it sucks and they don't want to think about it now. Cas reaches across the table to touch Dean's hand gingerly; Dean returns by clasping that hand in his own._ _ _ _

____"Would you like to join me, Dean?" Castiel asks as he smiles playfully, standing up._ _ _ _

____"Of course. Lead the way," Dean replies. Castiel tugs him by the hand to the room in the back of the cabin, the one bedroom which must be Cas's. He takes Dean directly to the bed and lays with him. Two books and a pair of reading glasses sit on the nightstand. The joy of being comfortable in someone's presence washes over Dean, and he leans in to catch Castiel with a quick kiss, then pulls away. Cas draws him back in, though, insisting on more, and Dean complies. Their mouths fit together, and Dean neglects to breathe for a number of minutes. A tongue slips against Dean's lips. Dean welcomes it and uses one arm to hold Castiel, to pull him tighter and not let him escape. He realizes that one of Cas's hands is in his hair, pulling to adjust Dean's position and make the slide of tongues irresistible. Dean remembers one other time having this intimacy, and how fate determined it to be short-lived and Dean to be alone again. Please, not this time, he thinks desperately as he clings to Cas's shirt. Let him stay. Let him..._ _ _ _

____The thoughts are drowned out by the sounds emanating from the back of Castiel's throat, little unconscious whimpers that might be a cry for the exact same thing. Stay with me. When Dean has to pull back and take a breath, Castiel's lips chase after him, willing him not to go. Dean begins to unbutton Cas's soft plaid shirt, and those lips impatiently cling to his cheek, his jaw, and his neck. Once the shirt is removed Dean trails his hands along Cas's body next to his, while Cas lifts Dean's shirt up by the hem to do the same. Castiel's lips are beautifully red, and Dean marvels at the sight before leaning in to claim them again. The soft body under Dean's hands quakes at the contact, and Castiel ruts against Dean's hip, the hardness in his jeans becoming evident. Dean separates them._ _ _ _

____"The whole damned current of life flowing through you," Cas pants as Dean turns him to lay on his back, planting kisses on his collarbone._ _ _ _

____"It's okay," Dean murmurs into Castiel's skin, branding the words there with hot breath so Cas will not forget. Fingers thread through Dean's hair and pull him closer. They urge him toward Castiel's neck so that he licks and sucks beneath Cas's jaw which is tilted upwards. Castiel hums contentedly, and a small groan escapes his throat. Dean nibbles softly on Cas's pulse in approval and expresses his affection in kisses and short licks across Castiel's chest. He gently swipes his tongue over each nipple, and Cas gasps quietly, tightening his hold on Dean's hair. As Dean trails kisses down Cas's abdomen and meets Cas's waistband, he turns his face to examine Cas's enthralled gaze focused on Dean's mouth lingering so near to where he wants it to be. Cas's chest is blotchy with a pleasant blush beneath his skin, and Dean draws a line over the pattern with his finger. Castiel lets loose some of his tension and smiles at Dean's teasing play._ _ _ _

____Unable to wait longer, Dean pops open the button on Castiel's pants and carefully pulls down the zipper. He and Cas work to maneuver the pants off. Dean watches Castiel's face as they pull off his underwear as well._ _ _ _

____Then he resumes the leisurely kisses where he had left off, and Cas's hands instantly find Dean's hair again. Castiel's eyes blow wide and his breath turns ragged as Dean experimentally touches his dick. Dean follows the touch with his mouth, kissing tenderly at the tip. The length is already hard and bulging with need, and Dean feels himself salivating and growing harder himself. He swipes once from the base up with his tongue, then checks on Cas's face which is still intently fixed on him. A thin sheen of sweat has formed over Castiel's bare skin leaving him only more beautiful. Dean grins and with decisiveness encircles the head of Cas's cock with his mouth, hollows out his cheeks and pushes down to take more in. He wants to be the best he can be for Cas. He doesn't want to be forgotten._ _ _ _

____Castiel claws at Dean's hair which probably looks like a rat's nest by now, and he groans at the heat surrounding him. Dean's spit eliminates friction as he bobs his head down, back up, and back down, one of his hands fisted at the base of Cas's cock. The moans and pants floating through the air and Castiel's body cause Dean to let out a strangled moan around Cas's dick. He clamps his free hand over his own length through his pants in the hope of some small amount of release. Castiel unknowingly tightens his grip on Dean's hair and slowly controls the movements, sending Dean down over his dick and back up until Dean takes him deep enough that his lips touch his own hand at the base. Dean glances up to see Cas battling between closing his eyes in bliss and viewing the scene before him. Their eyes meet and Castiel watches Dean deliberately swallow as much of Castiel as he can, past his own hand and almost to the very base._ _ _ _

____Cas groans a quiet, "Fuck, Dean."_ _ _ _

____Dean moans at the praise and allows Cas to control his pace. He feels happy and excited to be so full, and the moment comes too soon when Cas's hips buck up and Castiel tears Dean's mouth away from his cock. He starts to touch himself but Dean swats the hand away and pumps the cock himself, leaning back in to suck at the head and watch Castiel's face as it screws up in surprise and pleasure._ _ _ _

____"D-Dean!" Cas stutters as he spews into Dean's mouth with his orgasm. Dean shuts his eyes to enjoy the sensation, not the taste so much but the premise that Castiel trusted him in his most vulnerable moment, that Dean could lead him through safely with satisfaction._ _ _ _

____"Oh God," Cas groans. "Get up here!"_ _ _ _

____Dean crawls up Castiel's body, and they examine each other for a moment. Castiel quickly draws Dean in for a kiss and moans at the taste of his own cum on Dean's lips._ _ _ _

____"Thank you. So much," he says between kisses._ _ _ _

____And Dean knows he's referring to something greater than a blowjob, whatever it may be. Dean's heart fills with happiness that he was able to help someone, to be here for someone. He smiles into the kisses and wraps his legs around Cas's hips. Castiel's hand wanders down to tug on Dean's pants, and Dean removes them. Cas pulls Dean's briefs out of the way and wraps his hands around Dean as soon as he is exposed. The sound Dean makes is somewhat of a growl, and his head falls forward onto Cas's shoulder. He bites unapologetically at Cas's neck as Castiel strokes his cock. "Fuck," he whines, his hips thrusting of their own accord into the grip. He releases moans and whimpers until Castiel wrings him dry and he has nothing left._ _ _ _

____Dean watches Castiel's fingers trail through the mess across his chest, and then those fingers travel to Castiel's mouth which closes around them. Cas looks at Dean's face, wide-eyed and adoring, when he sucks on them. "Cas," Dean whispers reverently._ _ _ _

____Their tongues collide again, and it's Dean's turn to moan at the taste of his essence in Cas's mouth. He rolls to lay on his side, not breaking contact, and Castiel envelopes him in an embrace with all limbs._ _ _ _

____Dean's had a hell of a Christmas Eve, and though he's slept all day, he's fucking exhausted. He lets Castiel's caress send him into sleep._ _ _ _


End file.
